


Dandelions

by fusiondescent



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Disassociation, Gen, In which Marluxia contemplates his past, Regret, Slight MarLar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 18:37:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12041853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fusiondescent/pseuds/fusiondescent
Summary: The face that Marluxia sees is familiar. He recognizes that it was someone he knew from long ago. But now it only feels empty.





	Dandelions

**Author's Note:**

> Since the confirmation of Lauriam and Ventus having known each other during KHx I wanted to write something up about Marluxia constantly having thoughts about the time with Ventus. And since Ventus looks EXACTLY like Roxas I kind of wondered how Marluxia would react to that knowing what he does. Though I'm sure this fic will be super OOC given the next few KHx updates but, hey, it seemed cool given the current update.  
> Dream Drop Distance spoilers ahoy!!

 

When Marluxia saw him he didn’t know what to think.

The boy who was called Roxas sat on his throne of white casted a downward gaze upon the center of the room. Blue eyes that twinkled a faint light lifeless and his body almost acting like a doll he sat as the members gazed upon him for a few moments then to the matter at hand. Had it been someone else of less interest Marluxia might have sized him up, gazed at him for a moment, then returned to staring at a particular spot in the room as he listened to Xemnas’s pompous speeches and hot hair.

Like everyone did.

Yet Roxas was not another person and so Marluxia dug into his throne in a struggle to stop him from shifting his uncomfortable body as his stomach flipped and turned. That particular spot in the room seemed a distant memory as his blue eyes kept a steady gaze upon Roxas, though his eyes held a sense of nervousness and unease unlike his usual outward appearance. As Roxas looked empty into nothing so did Marluxia stare at Roxas. His body felt heavy, his limbs could hardly move, and for the first time since being inducted into the Organization he wanted to run as far away from this place as he could and rejoin the grounds of the graveyard where he should have stayed.

It was when the meeting ended that he slipped away into the cold arms of darkness. As he wrestled against it to catch his bearings he stared at his hands as the black slime melted away into the careful white walls of his room.

_Was that him?_

He walked to his bed to sit down staring at the door swallowing. It was as if the sight of Roxas rose all sorts of memories from his mind. Memories he thought he had forgotten or purposely destroyed from his mind began to bubble from the calm lake and began to destroy the pretty picture he had formed for himself over the hundreds of years he had wandered the plains of existence and nonexistence.

Had life decided to finally catch up to him even if it already had when he turned from Somebody from a Nobody? The question turned and laughed in his mind as if it were a Heartless itself that wiggled its way into his ‘light’. For the now and present to do this to him as if some joke he couldn’t help but huff a laugh as he nervously smiled at the ground as if waiting for Xigbar to step into his room to question and laugh at his suffering.

Because he knew. He knew and kept it high above his head as if the noose the waited for him like everyone else.

But no one came.

No one bothered.

So it was only an hour later that Marluxia finally ventured outside his room to the reading room. To pretend he was alright and that he had slinked off to take a nap or at least attempt to. Because that’s how it worked, that’s how it was **supposed** to work. Even if it still hurt and wretched his body in half he had to, at least, pretend he couldn’t feel a thing.

Because that’s what they told them.

“Hey.” Marluxia blinked slowly, his eyes peaking up from the book in his hand to stare at Larxene who stood over him. “What was all that about?” She waved her hand about the place, animate and almost like she had a heart. He smiled at her.

“You have to be a little more specific,” the book gently closed, his thumb pressing against the middle of the pages to keep his place. The binding of the book cried as he pressed against it with such force it was surprising the paperback didn’t fall apart. For once he did not want to talk about the matter at hand. The wound still burned as if fresh even if it was hundreds of years old. This had only pressed salt into it. To say that he didn’t want to talk, however, would show everyone the cards he held. Thus he sat with his pretty lips in a curled smile and his eyes fluttering like sakura petals falling to the ground.

She pursed her lips and furrowed her brows. “Don’t play dumb with me.” Her voice was almost a hiss, “You’ve been staring at that new kid during the whole meeting.” She flicked her eyes towards hallway that would eventually lead to The Garden. It was obvious she didn’t care about him, nor wanted anything to do with him, but the fact that Marluxia’s interest had been peaked meant that Roxas was _somewhat_ important.

Eyes casted a downward gaze from her face to the ground (or her torso more or less). “I thought I recalled him from somewhere.” He flicked his silver tongue. It wasn’t a truth nor lie. Somewhere in the between.

But even Larxene saw through it and managed to huff a laugh. “You should try harder,” she sighed as she fell on the couch next to him. Her body crept up on his, fingers curling around the book he held, her face nearing his cheek. He felt her breath on his neck. It sent shivers down his spine. The tension that built could have been snapped in half. “Even I know you don’t get so _emotional_ over little things.” She whispered into his ear acting as if it was a sweet nothing. “It almost sounds like you want to talk about it.”

But Marluxia huffed turning towards her. His lips near her ears as if whispering a sweet nothing back. This was their game. “Then tell me. What should I say?” Her eyes rolled in response as she drew back from him. “The matter is of no importance.” He curled his hand around her wrist that placed itself on his book and ever so gently he moved it away only to continue reading as she laid her head on his shoulder in defeat.

“Is he seriously that much of a sore spot?” she murmured. For that Marluxia was glad that Larxene didn’t indulge in poking knives into him as much she did any other member of the Organization. Perhaps it was Marluxia’s nature that made him less fun than the rest, or perhaps she actually started to **care** about him. Whichever the reason was, he still at least appreciated nonetheless. Was this why he almost loved her? “Not like he remembers anything. He can barely _speak_.” Her fingers fluttered. He glanced at her to see she was playing with one of her knives. Electricity sparked.

“You spoke to him?” he turned the page hiding his surprise.

“If him standing there gawking at me like it was the first time he’s seen a woman is one,” her bored tone was palpable. “I guess.” Marluxia felt her shrug. “I’ve hardly a clue as to why he’s so useful aside from that keyblade.”

His fingers burned. Whenever that name rattled the air he wanted to call his back. He missed it. Missed that life. Would the keyblade still beckon to his call after so long of living in darkness? Or was the thing gone forever like Chirithy? “Everything will come together in due time,” he turned the page not bothering to read it anymore. Everything felt numb in his hands. He didn’t recognize anything anymore. The reflection of himself on the pearl walls almost didn’t seem real. Who was that? “A tree doesn’t grow overnight.” Eyes flicked to the door and he saw Roxas staring. Larxene didn’t notice, too preoccupied with her knives, and Marluxia only looked at him through the corner of his eye still acting as if he was reading.

Did he remember?

He must have a little.

Or was that what he hoped?

He wasn’t so sure if he should bother anymore. Last he heard—last he saw—the ‘Roxas’ that Marluxia once knew was a castaway shell of the one before. Much like this one, it was all the same. It was only chance or fate that finally led them to meet again, and Marluxia wasn’t sure if he should thank the forces of the world or curse them for leading them together.

Axel eventually came to round Roxas up and push him to The Garden leaving Larxene to wonder what Marluxia was staring at. He returned to his book. Flipped to the next page with the smile still on his lips. “All he needs is some nurturing.”

* * *

 

He remembered his time as a Somebody, remembered his time with all his friends, and remembered the fake blood on his hands. What he would do to go back to that time, to tell his dear friends what would occur even if it was all prophesized before. He wanted to say something. Wanted to shout at his friend and tell them how long it has been since he’s seen him. Asked if he still remember Ava and her question to become a Dandelion.

But that wasn’t him.

That was Roxas.

Besides, even if it was him what would he say? Though his heart wanted to tell the other how much had transpired in the world it wasn’t his place to. Would the boy he once knew be disappointed with him for what Lauriam had done? Or would that boy forgive him as they walked back into the light to lead the Unions? What did it matter anyway? The time for keyblade wielders was over. It wasn’t Marluxia’s place besides, he had another calling. A calling to bring back those who trespassed into darkness and beckon them back to the light.

It was only on one of the few missions they had together that Marluxia began to realize that the person he once knew was no more. He remained silent and observed how Roxas didn’t know anything about Heartless or gathering hearts. In a way he thought it was funny as he went on explaining the mechanics of hearts and Heartless. It was so familiar to the Lux he used to gather for his Union. He almost wanted to go back to that time from before and battle each other to gather Lux and see how each party fared in the ranks.

Things were so simple.

He wondered if the other would ever reply to his nickname that he always asked people to call him by, but he would leave that be for another day and retreated to his sanctum.

Though he laughed at the garden’s name of Walk of Silent Repose, there was hardly ever silence as Demyx strummed his sitar to let drops of water fall from the ceiling and down onto the garden Marluxia cultivated. It was their symbiotic relationship, and even Marluxia began to appreciate the music that Demyx made with his sitar as it set apart them from the dull castle. Even if the other was annoying and sometimes Marluxia wanted to kick him out to preserve his lingering sanity he still forced himself to deal with the child. Because in the end it was better than the deafening silence that the walls of the castle held.

He clipped a bud, pulled a dead plant, and let the weeds grow.

Silence returned as Demyx stared at Marluxia with his brow quirked. “Hey, uh,” he motioned to Marluxia with his chin. “I’m no professional but aren’t those weeds bad for the plants.”

So Marluxia picked one of the flowers from the weeds. It was if the notion of ridding all the weeds from his gardens made him reflect upon the decision to keep them. There was a reason. A reason he chose not to think about himself. “Indeed, they are. But they are with their uses.”

Demyx stared a little dumbfounded at Marluxia. “Like--?”

A small laugh escaped his lips as he turned to Demyx. The sweet poison of his voice made Demyx visibly curl inward. “Wine.” But Lauriam wanted to say otherwise. It was only Marluxia that kept that secret still.

Marluxia didn’t even know how to make wine.

It wasn’t until a week later that he was actually alone that he had another visitor aside from the usual. He sat rather comfortably potting succulents and it was the noise that betrayed the other’s presence that he finally looked up to see Roxas staring at the Morning Glories by the door. So the assassin’s lips curled gently as he stared at Roxas about to pick them. It was almost funny how much Roxas acted like his friend. That hurt returned. “Lovely, aren’t they?” The boy froze. His fingers brushed the petals. “Though I prefer _Argyreia_ over _Calystegia_.”

Roxas turned to stare at Marluxia, his hands to his sides. “I wasn’t going to pick them,” he spoke defensively as if he Marluxia was going to inquire.

So he shook his head. “That hardly bothers me.” He beckoned with his hand for Roxas to approach his table and the boy did carefully avoiding some of the plants that spilled out from their pots or other. Marluxia continued to repot the succulents and politely let Roxas hover.

It was a beat of silence later that Roxas began to mumble something. “Uhm… Well… I was wondering if you’ve seen Demyx. I know he likes to come here a lot.” Roxas placed his hands on the table watching Marluxia repot the plant.

“Have you looked in The Garden?” Marluxia set the repotted succulent to the side to attend his other plants.

“I thought this was the garden…” Roxas furrowed his brows looking away from the succulent to Marluxia.

“This is a Walk of Silent Repose,” Marluxia motioned with his free hand. The plants fluttered and bent to his will even if he did not will it. “The Garden That Interviews Darkness and Light is often times called the Grey Room.” He glanced at Roxas who made a silent ‘oh’ as he looked back at the succulent. One’s personal preference dictated what the room was called. Much like how their current names and old ones died. In the end, it didn’t matter. It was all the same.

“He wasn’t there either.”

“Then you’d do well to inquire Saix about his whereabouts.” Roxas didn’t budge, still staring at the plant now with confusion plastered on his face. Marluxia smiled. “Is something the matter?”

The boy finally looked at Marluxia with a frown on his face. “I just don’t understand. Why go through all the trouble of making this garden if they’re all just going to die?” He stared at the plants and weeds and trees. They flourished with Marluxia’s magic, but should he disappear they would no doubt wilt. But in the end that was the natural order of things, how it was supposed to be.

Marluxia set his tools down, taking off his gloves and placing them gently on the table as if done with his work for the day. His hand rested atop one of the whetstones he kept near. “What is the purpose of eating ice cream after every mission when you cannot truly enjoy it?” Roxas was taken aback for a moment as if surprised Marluxia knew of the daily rituals he partook in. It was no secret when one knew what Axel did. “We are Nobodies with no purpose. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t give ourselves one. Even with no heart we learn to care and nurture ourselves to feign emotion. Perhaps I am only tricking myself further by giving life to these flowers assuming they will do the same for me. But is your ice cream not the same?” he casted his eyes down to the table. The memories of the past swelled in his mind. It was Marluxia’s cryptic way to tell Roxas that he did have a heart, that everyone had hearts and this castle was a castle of lies. “We are creatures of habit that find purpose in our rituals. Who am I to deny myself something simple even if they should die?” The boy seemed to take it to heart as he stared down at the table. It appeared as if the words were being carefully turned over in his head as if God had uttered it to him. So Marluxia took the plant he had potted and placed it near Roxas. “Until you find that same purpose, take this.”

He didn’t know if he wanted Roxas to remember or if he was running after something that will never return.

Perhaps it was both.

Roxas blinked a few times before waving his hands back and forth. “What? Me? I don’t know a thing about plants.”

Marluxia shook his head. “They’re not that difficult to please.” He let his hands fold on the table, leaning on his elbows a little. “All they need is some nurturing to grow.” Roxas stared at the potted plant as if it were poisonous. But eventually he gave in to take it in both his hands staring at the succulent.

He hoped that Roxas could find his heart.

* * *

 

When he laid in bed he thought about his life before. Roxas made him feel old, and it was strange thinking that when Nobodies couldn’t age and still he appeared much older than the boy he once knew. But as he laid in bed unable to sleep he thought of the keyblade war and how all his friends were dead or staring at him through dead eyes.

It scared him, genuinely **terrified** him, to see Xion and look not at someone who was different but looked exactly like his friend the way he remembered him. Short blond hair. Barely younger than Roxas. And still with that damnable appearance. Was it the past haunting him? Was it the blood on his hands that he couldn’t wash away? Who else saw someone else in Xion?

He pressed his forehead further into the wall when he heard the door open and close. In the end he would never be alone and always with sharks nipping at his heels. So still he chose to lay in bed as Larxene carefully stepped towards it, the clicks of her heels almost calculated. She pressed her hand to Marluxia’s arm, turning him to stare into his eyes as he looked both in fear and empty at her.

Why was he crying? He didn’t have the heart to cry.

So it was returning (or was it already there?).

He still felt nothing. The tears empty.

She was starting to catch onto the cloak he wore that was slowly beginning to unthread. Marluxia kept his usual gaze at her but he felt his emotions beat within him. So he wondered if Larxene felt it too and realized she did have a heart and always had one. “So…” she sat on the edge of his bed leaning over him. “How long have you been a Nobody?”

And Marluxia couldn’t help but stare not at her but out his window as he laughed and laughed. His voice sounded crueler than Larxene’s and his eyes burned as if someone poured melting iron into them. Kingdom Hearts loomed and he wanted to scream and curse at it as if doing that would make everything return back to the way it was. It was disgusting. “Longer than everyone here.”

Larxene didn’t say anything. Instead she pressed her hand against Marluxia’s cheek. He wanted to be left alone but knew he couldn’t be able to speak it. So like any other night he allowed himself to be warmed by Larxene’s body even if every nerve on his body screamed something different. “Do you still plan to use him?”

“No,” he closed his eyes as he felt Larxene’s cold hands wrap around him. Was it her way to try to console him?

“Is he really that important to you?” she pressed Marluxia’s head to her chest and rested her chin upon his head.

He hissed through his teeth as he dug his fingers into her body. Was that pain even real? “I don’t know.”

For everything that happened he wasn’t sure if it was his memories that made him regret everything or if it was his heart that forced him to feel regret.

But what did it matter? They were told they didn’t have anything anyway.

* * *

 

“What’s that?”

The warmth of Twilight Town filled his soul, but he knew it was only emptiness. His fingers pinched the stem tighter in his hand. The dandelion he held waved a little in the wind. For a moment he thought that the flower represented himself and it was only Roxas’s voice that pulled him from the moment of contemplation. “This?” he muttered bringing the flower up. “This is a dandelion.” _Do you remember them?_  He let the flower wilt and turn into the white seeds it was known for. All synthetic, all fake. “They turn into seeds that the wind tends to carry.” He turned facing the setting sun, arm out still holding it as if the tiny seeds would cover the ball of fire. “They are gone in an instant.” The wind took it, and so did all the dandelions that he stood in blew away. All the seeds floated up and into the unknown like they were supposed to. Would they go to other worlds? He wished they would. Away from Xemnas, away from this hell, to start life again.

He wondered who else managed to survive.

Roxas only stared, his eyes nearly budging as he tried to trace every seed that flew away. “Where do they go?” He approached the railing around the hill and stared out as the seeds drifted farther into the sky.

“They go where no one can reach them,” Marluxia uttered staring into the sky as he watched his friends depart. “To other worlds—where they can start life anew.” The seeds bled into the sunlight. His ‘heart’ wrenched. He cringed as they disappeared and so the memories returned. So he looked towards Roxas as he was still staring at those seeds and Marluxia could barely comprehend how hundreds of years have passed and it looked as if not a day had gone by for him—for Roxas. He heard Ava’s voice and he wanted to scream at the blood in his hands.

The Roxas that stood there didn’t look like Roxas anymore but looked so much like how they first met. It was when Marlxia’s gaze turned back to the stem in his hand that he didn’t see himself but saw someone else. The one called Lauriam. He heard Ephemer and Skuld’s laughter and could even see the other Dandelions that laughed and played in the meadows.

What did Master Ava think of him now?

“Do you remember, ---?”

His blue eyes burned as he shook the vision from his head.

The other didn’t hear him. It took him a moment to look at Marluxia with a confused look. “Huh? What did you say?”

So Marluxia smiled at Roxas. He supposed he had to accept what fate had decided to give to him. It didn’t matter anymore anyway. The memories that have been erased must have been for a reason, a reason that had to be respected. “I said we should head back.” The stem fell to the ground like the dreams he once had. For a moment Marluxia wondered if he too could turn into a seed like he had before and be willed away to a new world.

This time, he wished, that things turned out differently.

He wanted to go home.

* * *

 

As he laid in the empty room where his Nobody died and faded, he stared at the ceiling hearing the audible lock signaling that Sora had destroyed his only link to the outside world. He stared at his hands and the smoke that rose from his body, then turned his head to stare at the door that would be forever, eternally, locked.

He reached out towards the door to try and beckon his keyblade to appear but only flowers blossomed.

“Why won’t it return?” he gritted his teeth as his body faded. Emotions swelled around him. The overwhelming feeling of anguish filled his body as tears began to fall down his cheeks. Hundreds of years later he did not miss the fire that burned in his eyes each time that he shed tears. There was no fear in the unknown after ‘death’ but rather he sobbed for the memories of his end.

He wanted to throw Graceful Dahlia across the room to rot and so let it fall to his side clattering to the ground wishing it would shatter forever. He didn’t want that. He wanted his keyblade back. His **self** back. As he felt his body begin to disappear and he wondered how long he’ll be kept in this hollow chamber and even if he would be released what world would he return to?

So he was alone again. Just as before. No party. No Union. The blood still on his hands.

It was dark.

It was **cold**.

He closed his eyes. His body tried to escape this room but could not. He was trapped here forever. And unlike the Dandelions he would stay here until the sea could set him free.

“Master Ava,” he murmured as his body fell further into sleep. “I wonder. Did you know it would end like this?”

* * *

 

Truth be told, Roxas wasn’t sure why he went into the garden upon hearing of the deaths of everyone in Castle Oblivion. He was feeling rather empty knowing that Axel was gone, and it helped no better that everyone in the Organization that was left treated him rather coldly in comparison to those that left for Oblivion. Though, he supposed, it was better than Larxene.

As the door to the garden opened he saw that most the plants were decayed or overgrown. The hardier ones managed to keep some sliver of life while the more delicate plants had turned a deep shade of brown and shriveled beyond what Roxas could see. The weeds somehow grew plentiful but even they still decayed with the lack of sun. It was almost as if Marluxia kept them alive through synthetic means.

He walked to the table. A batch of dried roses were on them and below it a whetstone that Roxas always saw Marluxia with whenever he was sharpening his plentiful collection of scythes. Even with him gone he could still hear that echo. The ringing in his ear would never go away as he thought of the assassin. It already looked as if Saix was clearing out the room to make way for something new or to leave it empty like it would have been.

Roxas blinked at the roses before looking down at a batch of dandelions next to it. They were withered.

He heard the door open and shut. So the boy turned to look at a rather surprised Demyx who was holding his sitar. Both of them were silent before Demyx scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Hey, Roxas.” He waved his hand, “I didn’t think you’d be here.” His eyes trailed down to Roxas’s hand. He was gripping the dandelions. “Are you seriously weeding the garden?”

“What?” Roxas stared down at the dandelions and brought them up. “These?”

Demyx walked towards Roxas and pointed down at the whither flowers. “You know, those are weeds, right?” Roxas stared at them as though they were foreign objects. “You didn’t know?”

So the boy shook his head, “No. I didn’t. Marluxia told me they were dandelions but he didn’t say anything about them being weeds.” The other rolled his eyes as if the knowledge was common but didn’t pressure Roxas any further. “What are you doing here?” but he asked that as if he already didn’t know the answer to the question. It was obvious.

A wide grin spread across Demyx’s face. “I came here to play,” he patted his sitar. “Saix is gonna get rid of everything here soon so I’m gonna give this place a ‘final farewell’.” He air quoted those words but both knew that he was here to slack off. No doubt to avoid a mission. There was a pause from him as looked around the garden for a little. He eyed how decrepit it had gotten since Marluxia had left for Castle Oblivion. What had been vibrant and full of life had turned into nothing more but a rundown greenhouse. It almost reflected Marluxia in that he too was dead. Roxas remembered what he had told him, how the flowers here reflected himself and his purpose in life.

But how much of himself did Marluxia put into that garden that he carefully cultivated?

Roxas blinked as Demyx stared back towards the boy though his faced seemed more concerned now than anything. He pointed his finger and bent down a little to get a better look at the child. “Hey, you alright there?”

“Huh?” Roxas blinked at Demyx.

“You’re… crying.” He said that word as if it was foreign. Because Nobodies couldn’t cry, of course. Even the idea of such happening to anybody no less would have been scoffed at.

So Roxas shook his head from side to side slowly as if in disbelief because Nobodies didn’t have emotions. He brought his hand to his eyes and wiped a tear from his face with his fingers. It was almost strange, as if his self wasn’t crying but someone else. The single tear drop upon his finger dried away leaving a salty impression. Roxas was left to wonder. “I don’t… understand.”

But he did, almost. It felt as if his friend had died, but not the friend he knew as Axel, but someone else. A name he could barely remember. A name he almost wanted to remember. So Roxas furrowed his eyes as he looked at the dandelions as if they would mean something, but nothing remained of that life. So Demyx shrugged it off, “Maybe it has to with your memories as a Somebody.” But that wasn’t the case because Roxas couldn’t remember anything. “Did you know Marluxia or something?”

Roxas shook his head wiping away all his tears. “I don’t know.” He acted as if he had those memories that never were. “Did he mention anything about me?”

Demyx shrugged waving his hand side to side, “Your guess is as good as mine, he hardly talked about his past, like, ever. Less than anyone in the Organization **combined**. He took the new name new life thing to the heart.” There was a pause, “Well, you know.” Roxas stared down at the dandelions feeling a little strange. “You know, thinking about it, he did kinda act a little strange around you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Demyx walked to the other side of the room and began to set up. “I mean, whenever he looked at you he looked kinda sad. You know the way Xemnas looks? It was like that, but sadder.” But he waved his hand about not really caring much for details. He strummed his sitar since it wasn’t his problem to deal with. “Guess it really doesn’t matter anymore, huh?”

“Yeah…” Roxas shifted. “I guess it doesn’t.”

* * *

 

They sat atop the clock tower silently eating their ice cream. The rays of sunlight spread warmth upon their bodies as the laziness after the mission seeped into their bodies. Laughter and giggles echoed the town and the noises of the trains leaving in and out the train station filled the air. It was happiness that the two of them felt, happiness that everything was the way it was supposed to be as they sat there calmly in silence.

Yet it still did not feel right.

“Axel?” Roxas shifted on the ledge as his friend hummed a ‘what’ with his mouth full of ice cream. “What happened to Marluxia?”

The elder man blinked strangely at Roxas as if the question itself was absurd. “Marluxia?” he repeated the name as if he had forgotten the man had existed. It was obvious that Axel didn’t expect to be asked what had happened to him of all people. Because who cared about Marluxia? “He…” Axel scratched his head trying to find the words to explain what happened to him. “I can’t really say.” And Roxas hated that he didn’t know if it was because Axel couldn’t talk about it or he genuinely didn’t know what happened to him. “But why care at all? You two didn’t seem close.”

“I don’t think we were,” he shook his head. “But I think he knew me.” A hand pressed itself against his chest. The heart, beating, feeling something, but those emotions not his to claim. It felt as if he was looking at himself as he spoke.

“Knew you?” Axel replied in mild surprise. A laugh soon echoed and broke the simple conversation that they had. “Trust me, Marluxia would have taken full advantage of you if he did.” The words were with poison, as if he detested Marluxia’s existence and yet didn’t. Was there a hint of regret in his words? Was it mutual animosity? Or was it the work that Axel was forced to do that made him remember Marluxia in that poisonous tone?

Axel bit down on his ice cream. It almost felt like that was the end of that.

Roxas shifted atop the clock tower staring at the sunset. Axel glanced at him with ice cream still in his mouth his eyes almost slightly narrowed in both sleepiness and lingering memories. “Maybe… he didn’t know me.” Axel furrowed his eyebrows as Roxas looked down at the ice cream in his hands. Drops of blue dripped off into the ground below. Still he thought about Marluxia’s words of the flowers in his gardens. “Maybe it was someone else—someone that looked like me.” And as he stared down at his hands he felt that sadness in his body resurface.

It didn’t feel right, to feel this hurt.

Axel could only shrug, “You sure?” He took another bite out of his ice cream. “Marluxia was only power hungry for one thing.” Roxas glanced at Axel who stared at him. The keyblade. That’s what he meant. The unspoken word that made Roxas’s fingers tingle as it beckoned to be called to his side.

“I’m sure. When he was telling me about dandelions he called me something. I don’t remember what it was, but it kind of felt…” Roxas narrowed his eyes struggling to form words. “… _familiar_.”

“Familiar?” Axel leaned forward. He pointed his ice cream at Roxas. “I thought you said you didn’t have memories of your past.”

“I don’t.” Roxas sighed as he shook his head, “But when I heard it I felt something.” He turned to smile bitterly at Axel. That something, he didn’t know the word for it. A mix of nostalgia and sorrow, as if yearning for something that never was. An unknown.

Axel hummed, finishing the rest of his ice cream and biting the wooden stick. They sat in silence for a while, staring at the setting sun as Roxas ate his ice cream. It was quiet, but the company they kept was rather nice. A moment later the silence was broken as Axel huffed. “I’m kinda curious…” he waved his hand. “What did Marluxia tell you about dandelions?”

Roxas bit off a piece of his ice cream looking at Axel. “He told me---” he swallowed the piece. “He told me that they turn into seeds and travel to other worlds to start new life there.” His reaction wasn’t what Roxas expected. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Axel shook his head. “I’ve heard of wishing on dandelions, but not that they can start new life. It’s just kind of a weird analogy.” He shrugged, “Guess it must be something he was taught as a Somebody.” As Axel shrugged he began to lay down, shifting his legs so he felt better on the clock tower he closed his eyes to slumber. And Roxas began to realize how much he hated how everyone separated their Somebody from their Nobody as if they enemies of some kind.

But what did he know? He didn’t have memories of his past like **they** did.

“Yeah… maybe.” Roxas murmured. “Demyx told me that dandelions are weeds, but I like what Marluxia told me.” He looked up into the sky and caught a few dandelion seeds passing by. They floated with the wind over the sunset and far away where no one could reach them. What worlds would they go to? What places would they see? “Its almost as if he saw the dandelions as hope.” Reaching out Roxas closed his eyes to try to reach the seeds that floated by. They kissed his fingers, but never once floated to his palm. Words on his tongue yearned to spill and dance with the dandelions in the air. And who was he to deny them that? So carefully he opened his mouth, the name leaving his lips like honey. “Ventus.”

Axel opened his eyes to look at Roxas. There was surprise written on his face but a surprise that was unexpected to even Axel. The name was familiar, something that the both of them didn’t know they would ever hear. As if it shouldn’t have been said at all. “Huh?”

“That’s what he called me,” and he was smiling at the dandelions that passed him by as if they were friends that he hadn’t seen in years. The name didn’t ring any bells nor did it make him feel any more different than he had been. Yet deep in the back of his mind lingered something as if slumbering.

“He called me… Ventus.”

 


End file.
